


Good to Eat

by Jmeelee



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Children, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Chanukah, Hanukkah, Jewish Character, Jewish Derek Hale, Judaism, Kid Fic, Latkes, M/M, Sharing Cultures
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:41:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21904666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jmeelee/pseuds/Jmeelee
Summary: So if Stiles married Derek Hale, he could become Jewish too?  Perfect.  It was settled.  Stiles gleefully shoveled a forkful of cheesy shells into his mouth."Uh oh. I know that look.” Claudia shook her head."Don’t worry, Mom, ” Stiles said, reaching for his plastic Batman cup.  "I’ve got a plan.”"Good luck, Derek Hale,” his mother muttered.Rude.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 54
Kudos: 516
Collections: Christmas Vibes





	Good to Eat

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Poetry-protest-pornography (maiNuoire)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/maiNuoire/gifts).



> This story is for Rachael aka [Poetry-Protest-Pornography,](https://poetry-protest-pornography.tumblr.com/) who works tirelessly to bring Jewish content to the sterek fandom, and their awesome blog [Sterek8nights](https://sterek8nights.tumblr.com/). Thank you for all you do!

“Okay class,” the teacher called, her rhythmic clapping pattern refocusing the attention of her twenty kindergartners. “We have a special treat for this week’s show and tell. Everyone please welcome Derek’s mom and dad!”

Show and tell was never easy for Stiles—sitting still on a small blue square of carpet was  _ not  _ his thing—but today he was buzzing out of his skin. In Stiles’ estimation, Derek Hale was the coolest kid in class. He always shared his fruit snacks with Stiles when Stiles forgot his Avenger’s lunchbox on the bus. And unlike that butt-head Jackson, Derek never complained when Stiles used up all the black finger paint for his Batman portrait. 

Derek’s mom perched in Ms. Morell’s fluffy red story-time chair and smiled at all the children. She had shiny black hair and dark, kind eyes that tilted up in the corners, and her hunter-green sweater looked soft and warm. Stiles was  _ in love _ , and if it wouldn’t land him in a ton of trouble, he’d get up right now and go sit on her lap. “I’m Mrs. Hale, Derek’s mother,” she told them, “and this is Derek’s father.” 

A tall, bearded man with eyes the same bright shade as Derek’s stepped up behind Mrs. Hale, resting one arm on the high back of the reading chair. He waved to the group with his bearpaw-sized hand. “Our family is Jewish,” he told them. “Today we’re going to share our religion and culture with you. Does anyone know what special Jewish holiday starts this week?” 

Stiles’ butt tore off the carpet faster than a rocket blasting into space. He crawled forward on his knees, waving his arm in the air. Derek’s mom pressed her lips together in a smile.

“Criss cross applesauce, Stiles,” Ms. Morell reminded him. Stiles plunked back down, but kept reaching his hand toward the sky. 

Derek’s dad pointed to him. “What’s your name, young man?”

Stiles inhaled a breath and let loose. “My name is Stiles Stilinski and my daddy’s a deputy! It’s Chanukah! That’s spelled C-H-A-N-U-K-A-H! But you can also spell it H-A-N-U-K-K-A-H. It’s a festival of lights where you light the menorah and get presents and play dribble.”

Mr. Hale’s eyebrows climbed up his forehead. “Uh...yes, it is Hanukkah, you’re right. And we do light the candles on the menorah, but the game you’re referring to is called Dreidel.” He pronounced it slowly, separating the syllables;  _ drey- dull _ . 

“Yeah!” Stiles exclaimed. “You spin it, like a top, and win candy!” Stiles’ butt once again vacated the carpet. “And the menorah gets put in your window. My neighbor, Mrs. Katz, she puts a menorah in her window and she gives out really big candy bars on Halloween. She’s my fav-”

“Stiles,” Ms. Morell placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, applying the slightest pressure to make him sit. His classmates tittered behind their hands. “Give the other kids a chance to talk to Derek’s parents.”

“You know a lot about Hanukkah, Stiles. Are you Jewish, too?” Mrs. Hale asked. 

Stiles shook his head. “No, but my mom and I read a library book all about Hanukkah.” He uncrossed his legs, accidentally kicking Theo Raeken in the back and earning a glare, then recrossed them. “I like to read a lot.”

Another soft, encouraging smile.“That’s very good.” Her eyes left Stiles’ face and traveled around their little group. “Does anyone else have anything they want to share?”

As Greenburg–for the life of him Stiles could never remember that kid’s first name–told Mrs. Hale about his family’s Hanukkah bush, Derek leaned over to whisper in Stiles’ ear. That was another reason Stiles thought Derek was super cool; he risked a flailing elbow to the face always sitting next to Stiles during story time, and never seemed scared. “If you think Dreidel is exciting, just wait until you taste the latkes.” 

“Whoa!” Stiles shouted in the middle of Greenburg’s story. “What’s a latke?” Every pair of eyes in the room landed on Stiles. 

_ Oops _ .

__________

“How was school today, Mischief?” Stiles’ mother called from the open front door, where she watched him walk up from the bus stop at the end of their driveway. 

“Great!” Stiles told her with a gap-toothed smile. “We sang songs and I jumped off the highest monkey bars at recess and I decided what I want to be when I grow up.”

“I thought you wanted to be a garbage truck driving cop?” His father asked, poking his head out from the kitchen when Stiles walked through the door. He was dressed in his uniform and brushing crumbs off his fingers. “And before that, it was an astronaut cop.”

“Don’t forget the superhero cop,” Claudia chimed in.

“This is even better!” Stiles told them. His backpack dropped to the foyer floor with a soft  _ thud _ , and his sneakers went flying to opposite ends of the living room, one landing on the back of the couch, the other in his mother’s potted rhododendron.

“Mieczysław!” his mother admonished. “Pick those up.” But her words were tempered with a welcome home kiss atop Stiles’ buzzcut hair. “Now,” she said, after Stiles stored his shoes on the shoe rack by the door, “what do you want to be when you grow up?” 

“I’m going to be Jewish!”

His mother blinked her wide brown eyes. His father stifled a smile behind his hand.

“That’s very nice, sweetheart,” his mom said, taking his hand and pulling him over to sit with her on the couch. “But Judaism is a religion; it’s not a job.”

“Okay,” Stiles said, nodding agreeably. “Then I want Jewish to be my religion.” 

“My son, the Jewish cop.” His dad gave him a thumbs up and stepped back into the kitchen to finish making his dinner for work. 

“You know,” Claudia said, reclining back into the cushions and pulling Stiles flush against her side, “there are many Jewish people in Poland, where our family is from. I grew up hearing lots of Jewish folklore, and I’d be happy to share the stories with you. One was about a city named Chelm, where all the inhabitants did lots of funny, silly things. They call Chelm,  _ The City of Fools _ .” 

“Ah,” Stiles’ brain took a few detours, but eventually arrived at the most logical conclusion. “Chelm must be where Dziadzia is from.”

“Ha!” His father’s laughter burst from the kitchen like a popped balloon. “I am totally telling your father he said that!”

“ _ Shush _ , Noah,” she called out, then looked down at Stiles, soft wisps of her brown hair tickling his cheek. “Tell me why you want to be Jewish.”

And Stiles told her. He told her all about the beautiful Mrs. Hale, who listened to Stiles talk and never asked him to be quiet, about Mr. Hale, who patiently explained how to pronounce Dreidel then played sixteen consecutive games with Stiles and gave him gelt each time Stiles won. He told her about Derek Hale, who was his favorite classmate and made Stiles’ heart feel happy and full, and how the latkes Derek’s parent’s made for snack time were the most delicious thing he’d ever eaten. “They were made from potatoes, mom!” Stiles cried. “Fried potatoes! They’re like curly fries but even better!”

His father strolled out from the kitchen with his duty jacket on and his cooler bag slung over his shoulder. “You know, son, there’s more to being Jewish than eating delicious food, but the wonderful thing is, you can learn all about the religion and the people, and decide for yourself when you get a little older. I’m happy the Hales made such an impression on you.” 

Stiles leaped off the couch into his father’s arms for a good-bye hug. These days, his father was working lots of extra shifts, hoping to become the county Sheriff. Stiles missed him, but being a hero was an important job. ”Be safe, Daddy. Catch all the bad guys.”

Stiles’ dad winked at him before he leaned over to kiss Claudia softly on the mouth. ”You know I will. And no converting until I get home.”

”Mommy? What’s converting?” Stiles asked later when he and his mom sat down to their macaroni and cheese dinner. It sounded like something you’d find on a spaceship in Star Wars.  _ The Millennium Falcon’s system can’t take it, Chewy! The converting’s gonna blow! Pew pew pew! _

Claudia patiently waited until Stiles stopped making little explosion noises out the side of his mouth. ”It’s when someone changes religions. Some people switch religions because their beliefs change, or they feel in their hearts another religious community is where they belong. Lots of people convert when they get married to unite their family.”

So if Stiles married Derek Hale, he could become Jewish too? Perfect. It was settled. Stiles gleefully shoveled a forkful of cheesy shells into his mouth.

”Uh oh. I know that look.” Claudia shook her head. 

”Don’t worry, Mom, ” Stiles said, reaching for his plastic Batman cup. ”I’ve got a plan.”

”Good luck, Derek Hale,” his mother muttered. 

_ Rude _ .

__________

Twenty Years Later…

”They look perfect!” Talia exclaimed as Stiles fished his first latkes out of the cast iron pan with a slotted spatula. They were flat and lacy, browned perfectly crisp at the edges, oil and schmaltz soaking into the paper towels Stiles laid them on to cool. 

”Not half bad,” Derek praised as he leaned against the kitchen door frame, watching Stiles transfer the latkes to a serving tray and place them on the table next to small bowls of sour cream and applesauce.

”Right!? How’s it feel to know I don’t need you anymore?” Stiles joked. 

Derek fondly shook his head, coming over to wrap his arms around Stiles’ shoulders. ”I always knew you married me for my family recipes.”

Stiles raised an eyebrow. ”Puh-lease. I liked you long before latkes. Now come on; it’s my first official Hanukkah, and our first as a married couple. We’ve got some blessing to say and some fires to light.”

Derek kissed him. ”Only you could make lighting the menorah sound like a pyromaniac’s dream.” They clasped hands and headed into the living room to join their family. 

But first Derek swiped a golden-warm latke off the plate. 

**Author's Note:**

> I totally based this story off my own kindergarten self, who was ready and willing to renounce Catholicism in the name of the latkas my crush, Michael, brought to share with the class. Michael, I hope you are out there living your best Jewish life, thanks for the inspiration 20 years later!
> 
> Thank you to Dori and Rachael for looking this story over and giving it the thumbs up.
> 
> Title comes from the children's book, _Latkes, Latkes, Good to Eat: A Chanukah Story_ by Naomi Howland.
> 
> I'm [Jamie!](https://jmeelee.tumblr.com/) Come talk to me about Sterek anytime :-)


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